proper attire

"I'm sorry Miss, but you can't wear jeans in here."

One of the mysteries I am far from unlocking in the adult world is the rhyme or reason for dress code. I just don't get it. When I do follow it, it's just so that I don't piss other people off. Luckily, the office is pretty relaxed. And up until today, no assignment I've covered asked anything more of me.

At 7 a.m. after my half hour commute, I was greeted with this. The Tower Forum was hosting a debate on immigration reform on the 28th floor at One Financial Plaza in downtown Ft. Lauderdale.

"We have an extra pair of pants our cooks use that you could slip over your jeans," the receptionist told me.

About seven sizes too big, I rolled them over four times and wound up with a pair of black canvas parachute pants. Clearly more respectable than my jeans.

Good thing they provided me with the upgrade too. This was certainly a crowd I would not like to advertise the fact that I am a scrubby Spanish-speaking, political-asylum-acquiring, federal-aid-receiving foreign national to.

"What's wrong with calling them illegal aliens?!"

well, at least the view was pleasant.